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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390062">the map of my heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichabodcranemills/pseuds/ichabodcranemills'>ichabodcranemills</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spyvember [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Spyvember Prompts (Doctor Who)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 12:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichabodcranemills/pseuds/ichabodcranemills</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of Spydoc fluff: Spyvember prompts that didn't fit "the landscape after cruelty"s timeline. Set in the same universe, but might be read independently.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spyvember [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Haircut</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An awkward silence sits heavily in the room. The Master is quick to break it.</p><p>“I’m-”</p><p>“I’ve heard you the first time.”</p><p>“It’s just that-”</p><p>“I know what I’m doing.”</p><p>“Yes, but-”</p><p>“For Rassilon’s sake, Master!” she finally snaps, pulling the scissors away from his hair “I have excellent fine motor skills and I took haircutting classes.”</p><p>He frowns “When?”</p><p>“Year of the slow invasion.”</p><p>“That- that was ages ago. Two regenerations ago. How can you possibly be so confident that you still know how to do it?”</p><p>“It’s like riding a bike.”</p><p>“You suck at riding bikes.”</p><p>“Not in this body, I don’t.”</p><p>“That’s my whole point. Different bodies, different skills.”</p><p>“If you don’t trust me, why did you even ask me to do this?</p><p>“My hair’s been getting in my eyes,” he answers, pouting.</p><p>“Should I drop the scissors and get you a hairband then?”</p><p>The Master rolls his eyes “Just get on with it. But if you mess up my head I’ll retaliate on yours.”</p><p>“Your head is already messed up.”</p><p>He laughs and relaxes a bit in his chair. The Doctor carefully trims his bangs and stops halfway through to admire her work. That’s certainly a vote of trust. Perhaps the greatest he’s ever given her.</p><p>“What is going on?” he asks, just an edge of fear in his voice.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Doctor…”</p><p>She ignores him and resumes her work. In a few more minutes, she finishes and gives a hand mirror to check.</p><p>“Eh, it’s a bit uneven.”</p><p>“How dare you? It’s perfect and you know it.”</p><p>He relents and smiles.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re very welcome.”</p><p>The Master stands up, brushes the hair that's fallen on his shirt, and turns to her.</p><p>“Your hair's gotten a bit longer as well.”</p><p>“Yeah,” she says, looking at her own locks, reaching just a bit below her collarbones now “I'm still not sure what to do with it.”</p><p>He takes a step closer to her and tugs gently on a strand.</p><p>“I could give you a haircut as well if you'd like.”</p><p>How he manages to make that simple offer sound so seductive is beyond her. But the Doctor suspects it has something to do with his fingers brushing her neck and her collarbones.</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” she whispers, trying to not get too distracted by his brown eyes boring into hers.</p><p>The Doctor actually likes the longer hair. She can pull it up into ponytails and Yaz is trying to teach her how to french braid.</p><p>“Just let me know whenever you’re ready, love.”</p><p>But damn if the prospect of letting the Master take care of it doesn’t sound appealing.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Height differences + slow dancing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Doctor is shuffling through TARDIS's correspondence when she squeals excitedly at one of the letters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Madame Vastra has invited us to a party!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master frowns. “Us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, she invited me and a plus one. She and Jenny are renewing their vows.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you want to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You're my plus one,” she says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she looks away, the Master smiles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor finds him later in the wardrobe, picking up several pairs of 19th-century boots - some that seem to have belonged to Missy - and placing them beside a stack of period appropriate clothes. She knows something is off here, but she’s not quite sure what.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” she asks. He startles a little before turning on his heels to look at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trying outfits for the party. It's late-Victorian, isn't it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods, thinking they’ll expect her to wear a dress. She shivers at the thought until she remembers she wore a dress at the cruise and it was fun. Then she shivers again at the thought that a Victorian dress will reach her feet and she’ll probably trip on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, she’ll figure something out until the party.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master seems to take her distraction as a good sign and goes back to his shoe searching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks at her and his eyes are wide and sweet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, he is most certainly up to something.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looking for shoes, what’s with you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She directs her gaze to his selection of shoes and it takes her another minute to realize. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to put on heels! You're trying to be taller than me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am taller than you,” he says, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One inch doesn't count.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, doesn't it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets really close to her and it's… distracting. That extra inch just enough to force her to turn her gaze slightly up and his mouth is still so close to hers, she’d just have to move her neck one bit and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s still taller than you,” he says, taking a step back and smiling satisfied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Use whatever you want, I’m still the bigger man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, your height envy certainly proves that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor snarls at him before she leaves the wardrobe puffing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor fixes her dress problem with a lightweight crinoline cage that pushes the skirts away from her feet and allows her full leg movement. They were a bit old fashioned for 1897, but only the Master would complain about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Vintage,” he says, eyeing her dress and offering her his arm “Interesting choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.” She loops her arm through his anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They leave the TARDIS together and the height difference between them throws the Doctor off. She cranes her neck up to be able to meet his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How high are these heels?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“High enough,” he says, entirely too pleased with himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor!” Vastra greets her excitedly “I'm so glad you could make it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time machine. I wouldn't miss it for the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor, who's your... friend?” Jenny asks, one raised eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, this is, uhm. The Master.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both turn to look at him. Surprise and only a small amount of judgment crossing their faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>River must've told them who the Master was in true River fashion (“he's terrible, but the Doctor snogs him every now and then, you know how it goes”).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's nice to meet you both. Lovely party.” he turns to the Doctor “Shouldn't we be dancing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls her to the center of the hall in haste and the Doctor laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scared to meet my friends?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Silurians always make me uneasy. Those knowing eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Madame Vastra is a brilliant detective. I'm sure she can already tell all there is to know about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She's just a lizard. It's really not that serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So this is what brings the great Master down. A Silurian detective.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don't know why I tell you anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don't have to! I can just ask Madame Vastra.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shuts her up by spinning her around and pulling her flush against his chest. The Doctor looks up. His eyes certainly look beautiful from this angle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can you move so gracefully with these shoes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Natural skills and lots of practice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>She and the Master are excellent dance partners, having danced together in every Gallifreyan formal event since they were kids. And one or two UNIT parties in the 70s. The Brigadier had been thoroughly flummoxed</span> <span>at that, but he had never tried to stop them. Not that he would be able to.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“To be honest,” the Master says after a while, “I thought you’d retaliate. Come here using something ridiculous high.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'd be a public menace in heels and you know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The song shifts to a slow waltz and the Doctor pulls the Master closer. She rests her head on his chest and they sway together to the rhythm of the song. Perhaps, the Doctor decides, a bit of height difference isn’t all that bad. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In case you're wondering, the Doctor wore a dress on the chapter <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400678/chapters/67183336">"Necks" </a> , of "the landscape after cruelty"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mood rings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had first worn the rings just as she managed to get the Cyberium out of him.</p><p>"I don't need your stupid mood rings," the Master had complained.</p><p>"These are not mood rings. They are long-distance medical evaluators. If you're in pain or distressed, it will change colour on yours and mine as well. This way, I can check up on how you're doing, even if I'm far away."</p><p>"Lovely. So they're not mood rings. They're a <em> nanny cam. </em>"</p><p>"Keep them on and stop complaining, or I'll shock you."</p><p>"I thought you were concerned about my <em> well being. </em>"</p><p>She laughed and - before she could think better of it - stroked his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. </p><p>"Sleep tight."</p><p> </p><p>He retaliated a few weeks later, when she ate poisonous goo from a swamp in Aridius. He reversed the settings, and now hers would be the one detecting mood or physical changes and his would change colour to signal it.</p><p> </p><p>Before they noticed, they were both using the rings all the time.</p><p>Not as, <em> commitment rings </em>, or anything ridiculous of the sort. It's just that they were always so prone to go and get themselves hurt, that it was simpler just to have the rings on before they leave the TARDIS, so that one would always know if the other needed a hand.</p><p>So, see, it just made sense.</p><p> </p><p>After staring at her ring for the best part of a minute, the Doctor turns to the Master, who's reading a book with his feet propped up on her lap.</p><p>"Are you feeling alright?"</p><p>"Of course I am," he tells her, without looking up from his book "Why do you ask?"</p><p>"It's 'cause of the... Nevermind."</p><p>The rings are probably just broken. They've been fiddling too much with the settings so they can use it permanently as a two-way communicator, so the colour settings must be fried.</p><p> </p><p>The Doctor calls the manufacturer later the same day and explains what's happening.</p><p>"So, blue is distress, orange and red is pain, green is neutral. But now they just got stuck on golden? My uh, my companion and I have done some changes from the factory settings, so I think that's what might have caused the error and-"</p><p>"There's no error," the attendant interrupts her "Golden is one of the expected colours."</p><p>"It has never been golden before."</p><p>"That's probably because you only used it in certain situations. Golden is for contentment."</p><p>"Contentment?"</p><p>"Yes. For when the user is at their most comfortable. When they are wherever they want to be, with whomever they want to be. Just truly happy and in peace, do you understand?"</p><p>The Doctor looks down at her ring again. From the door, she can see the Master in the kitchen, humming a song while he cooks them dinner. She smiles, the realization warming her heart. The ring glows an even brighter gold.</p><p>"Yes, I know exactly what you mean."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy New Year :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>no word about how this should've been written in November. Time is meaningless :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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